Who's That?
by CasFellForDean
Summary: Sam and Dean go on another hunt, by directions of an unknown source. They don't know the name of this strange town. Neither of them expected to find what they did. A town bathed in purple, and seemingly one with too many weird occurrences. Wtnv and Spn crossover. ye. and please tell me whether you would like to see another chapter of this or not. or anything really.
1. Chapter 1

A/N so. hello. first fic. ye. This is a Welcome to NightVale and Supernatural crossover fic. Possibly some destiel and cecilos, probably not smut but still intimate scenes. Yeah. So. Please leave me some criticism if you don't mind. And/or say whether you liked it or not. Thanks

**Who's that?**

**Chapter One**

Darkness. Just plain and stupid darkness. That's all there was. No diner's to pull over to, no bars, no nothing. Well, excluding the scarce dull orange street lamps that passed overhead like miniature floating suns. Each one came and as the impala sped on, passed him and Sam, not like there where any speed signs around either. Dean had thought that there must have been at least one diner they would pass, or late-night store, one other human being other than him and his brother. Felling as though it was just the two of them, lost in this desert with no other human beings, was almost suffocating, and he could feel his heart begin to beat louder and louder. His small fear didn't show on his face, constantly set in stone, and that slight pout he was aware of. Taking a moment to look away from the seemingly never-ending cement road ahead, he glanced down at his watch. Son of a bitch. Four hours. He looked back to the road, eyes scrunching slightly and brows contorting his face into a grimace. They hadn't passed anything in four hours, and he meant anything other than dead animals. Seriously, they where everywhere. He couldn't blame them though, I mean it was a desert. But why would a cat be in a desert? Why would any animal come out here, how in hell would they even make it out here?

Dean continued asking himself these questions for the next fifteen minutes, assuring himself he would get answers once they arrived at the next town, if they ever arrived at the next town. If there even was a town. Or were they going to have to loop back again from this road? God he hoped not. Whilst he was at it, asking himself all these questions, a small part of him wondered too whether the DFS sale would ever end, and if he would ever get back to go and eat more burgers. He stopped himself there and drove on. Keeping a steady speed of around 40kph.

Dean glanced over to Sam, his gaze shifting from a grimace to his set-in-stone face again. The whole reason they had gone down this stupid road was because apparently there was a lot of strange activity reported by the news and through different sources they had wound up with directions of "Once you hit this road, continue along it, it is a straight road and is paved in black. One road. One way". Slightly creepy, Dean would admit, but much of the stuff they dealt with these days was anything but slightly creepy. And the douche-bag hadn't even given them a name of the town, just, "you'll know when you find it". Like he said, creepy.

He heard a small scratching of fabric against fabric and looked back over to his brother, his insanely tall brother who was finding it difficult to sleep in the impala. Sam was too tall, Dean was the oldest, he should be taller than his little brother, it made hugs awkward a lot. Although not as awkward as Sam and Cas hugging, though they were all friends, Dean already knew before Cas had said anything,that he favoured him. Cas had also appeared naked covered in bees on his car once, and he didn't think he would ever get another experience of that. Not that he wanted to, just not in those...circumstances. And maybe if it didn't involve possibly ruining his baby. God, was he seriously saying he would risk ruining his car for-

Dean stopped himself there before he got too far ahead of himself, not wanting to cause any commotion or anything and wanting to at least be able to look Cas in the eye's the next time he saw him. Cas always had such pretty blue eyes, dependant on the light they could look like the brightest ocean encased in a border of dark seaweed. Or sometimes they could resemble a galaxy, flakes or bright blue, as though there were billions of stars and galaxies inside his head, each owing their own constellation of stars and a kaleidoscope of words and depths and layers. Much in comparison to his own green eyes, rather normal, but he had been told that is what attracted most people to him, that and his male model face.

A Dean sat comfortably with his legs splayed out and one arm on the wheel and the other leaning on the window. He was glad in some circumstances, such as this, that he didn't have such long legs. It favoured him, in many ways more than one, yet he still wished he could be just a little bit taller. He snapped himself out of his daydream of memories and height differences and he looked up again. The. Same. Dam. Road. Sighing deeper and giving a cough of annoyance, his eyes shifted from the oh-so-long road back to his silver wrist watch, it had been 40 minutes. He could have sworn it was 15 five minutes ago. Did time seriously go that quickly? He felt his heart begin to beat louder again and he cranked his neck and sighed deeply.

Tempted to shove Sam awake to share his confusion about the whole situation. But, as he took a look over to the sleeping face of his brother, Sam drooling slightly and lying facing towards him, he thought differently of it. Sam's face was all smushed against the seat and he had curled himself on the seat as much as his Chewbacca body allowed. Most of him lying off the seat anyway. Sam's light brown hair had grown overtime, and at one point he was literally like a suicidal chewbacca, but he did need a haircut. Dean decided he had to petsuade Sam to get a haircut, or else he would cut it himself. He didn't want to be seen a walking around with a 6"4 Chewbacca with messy hair. He shook his head slightly to clear his mind. Didn't work. Instead he set his gaze back to the road. Green eyes scanning around for anything other that shrivelled up plants and the occasional dead animal, and as the lamps passed over head, for a second his eyes seemed to glow so brightly it almost looked like another small universe, nearly as bright as a certain angels eyes. And yet with all the calm, he felt an eeriness creep over him. It clawed into his back and planted itself in his stomach, curdling inside him and twist his insides with darkness. His mind felt so very fuzzy for a few seconds, feeling a type of darkness wash over him and quickly dissipate. He shook his head roughly, feeling his mind almost black out on him. His heart was pounding and he felt the impala shake roughly and come to a halt. Please tell me they had not run out of gas.

Sam shot up quickly from his lying position in the impala. He immediately looked to the drivers side, Dean wasn't there. And just as he was about to grab his gun and go looking for his not-so-missing brother, a face appeared beside his in the window.

"Rise and shine, beautiful. Have a nice beauty sleep?". Sam stretched his arms above his head, not like they would stretch far inside the vehicle. Pulling on his beaten up brown coat, he opened the door and stood beside Dean. He could feel the coldness begin to seep into his clothing as he was outside of the warmth of the impala. Uneasiness washed over him and gripped his heart and squeezed. Shaking it off, Sam walked up to Dean leaning over the cars engine. They where parked just close enough to a street lamp to have a light source.

"So, what's up this time? Car break down?", he said whilst stretching his arms and legs.

"Heh, yeah. Looks like we've run out of gas, in a desert, with nobody in hell around to help, Sam".

Dean was frustrated, Sam could tell. Or was that anxiety? Sam knew of Dean's stone face and get the job done attitude, but in reality sometimes he just lost his cool. He could understand why in this situation.  
Sam got back into the car, in the drivers side and began turning the keys in the ignition. The engine grumbled to life and the car seemed to have been working perfectly normal. He raised his eye brows at his brother from his seat. Dean furrowed his brows and shook his head, almost not believing it.

"Sam, no. That. No. I have been working on my baby for, what, and hour? And she just works for you? I'm telling you, Sammy, something's not right. There was no gas. Something's definitely not right about this".

Sam looked down at the Gas tank reader, it was at full capacity. Again, he raised his eyebrows at his brother. "Bet you just haven't slept enough, Dean, I mean how long have you been driving?".

Dean didn't say anything and ushered Sam out of the drivers seat, waiting for him to get back in the car and as each of them closed the doors, they felt that uneasy calm again. Dean put the car in gear and began driving again.

They drove on for about 10 minutes. Along that black pavement road, surrounded by dust and desert. And...dead...animals? Sam just sat there in stunned silence of what he was processing. Then, finally, Dean said something.

"Four hours".

"What?".

"Somewhere around four or five hours, we have been driving along this same road for four or five hours".

Sam sat there. How could they drive along one road for four hours straight? No passing anyone and dead animals only to keep company.

Then the car's radio began flickering, static and...words? Dean reached over and tried turning it off, face scrunched into an angry scowl and throwing his hand up when it wouldn't turn off.

"Dean, is that someone talking? On the radio, it sounds like words".

"You know Sammy I'm beginning to think your the one that needs more sleep".

Sam disregarded his words and listened closer, it definitely was someone talking. He looked over to dean as the words began to become clearer and more understandable. Dean's eyes widened and his mouth pushed into a bigger pout that normal. The radio was loud enough to hear, and it was the only sounds each of them heard in the car-

"Listeners, it seems we have some new arrivals, here in NightVale. Maybe more scientists, come to search and wonder about our mysterious little town? Or maybe some people from where dearest perfectly imperfect Carlos is from? Either way, NightVale, can I just say that we should greet them each with open arms. For there is one man with bright green eyes, and, pardon my words, an incredibly good looking face, and the other so very tall and so messy hair. Listeners, lets make them feel comfortable, them, and may I say their pretty nice car. Neat". With that the radio cut out, and static resumed again.

Dean and Sam sat there. Stunned. Creeped out. That mans voice was incredibly smooth, deep and almost as if he was reading a story. How the hell did he see them. Sam's head whipped around to look for cameras or anything. Nothing. Suddenly, the voice came back on the radio again, Dean and Sam stared at it-

"Listeners, our friends will be here soon. Oh dear, watch out".

The car jostled and by the time Dean looked up the car was off the road and in the desert. Dean managed to get the car back in control. His face was still scrunched up angrily and his eyes where wide. His body was tense. The car stopped and the two of them stared ahead. Something was walking towards them. Tall. Much taller than Sam. The lights from the headlight illuminated its tall figure. A million eyes looked back at them. Stared and fidgeted. Each was black, with no eye lid and seemingly placed randomly on the figures tall, tall body. Sam heard a small 'son of a bitch' beside himself but he didn't look over at Dean. Then they where both out of the car, guns drawn and standing completely still by the Impala. Nothing moved. Nothing jumped out. But then the eyes began blinking. And the full extent of the mass came into view. Wings, six of them, and each one had accompanied eye blinking on them. Two wings covered where its face was. Its body was fully black. And each of them just stared. Sam felt his head begin to hurt. It was like a bad ice-cream head ache. Noises. He could hear the radio man's voice in his head. So loud. Too Loud. He couldn't even see if Dean was alright. His eyes where closed tight and his head was pounding. The man spoke again before he passed out from the pain and noise.

"Hello, new-comers. And welcome, to NightVale".


	2. Chapter Two- Morning in NightVale

A/n .so. Second chapter ey. ye. Well. This is first of all in cecil's view. Nightvale view. Ya know. And by input of dear frond "be very wordy" I shall. Well. Go forth dears. And read. If you want ya know I dont mind its like 2 am I should write this tomorrow but you know what why not now. Also just remember that dean is always pouting. Oh and also this is just my headcannon for what cecil and carlos might look like so yeah dont mind me._**Always**_

_**Morning in NightVale. **_(ha, ironic)

Upon the streaks of light that slithered their way through the air, small dust particles floating and dancing throughout the space as it was dispersed upon the light with the sudden movement of limbs. The bright morning sun shone through the window, highlighting the white sheets which a body still lay upon. Which two bodies lay upon. One was rather dark skinned, darkened even more by the intense heat that came in the day. With such luscious and perfectly imperfect hair, great spirals and curls of gorgeous locks, that where messily splayed across their face and pillows.

Another lay beside this dark-skinned man. One with such pretty and straight blond hair upon their head. And although they lived in the heat of the desert, his skin appeared quite a bright and radiant colour. And upon each arm was a swirling and colonizing of bright and brilliant purple tattoos, which seemed to almost glow and shimmer slightly. Each one moved contently over the man's arms and body, each one roaming freely and softly over the skin. They reached up his neck and the small purple eye up on his forehead was closed, as the man still lay quietly in dreams. For in the light of day these two men lay, both within each others grasp and both within a gorgeous end and beginning of each light.

And as the man named Carlos, with that perfect hair, moved so suddenly away from the others warmth, Cecil, the man with those wondrous tattoos, also moved slightly. Carlos swung his legs over the side of the bed frame. Their bed was white, as where the sheets and the paint used on the wood. They each loved the morning of such bright calmness throughout the rise of the sun. And as the man, Carlos, got up from his and Cecil's bed, he walked over to a tall standing wardrobe in the corner. The man with the gorgeous hair pulled on his checked t-shirt, it being slightly crumpled and creased-but not easily seen as for the pattern covering its flaws, and buttoning each button with delicate nature.

Cecil moved quite suddenly from the bed, and came up behind Carlos. Grabbing on to him and hugging the man so tight he feel his heart might burst. For such a slim man, Cecil did have some strength. Maybe it was to do with most NightVale citizens? He'd have to read into that later. But right now he did have to get dressed. He wasn't wearing any trousers, for starters. And Cecil had walked off to the bathroom. He saw the back of Cecil's head disappear behind the oak door of the bathroom, hearing the tap turn on and a low humming coming from within. A smile creased at his face and he pulled on a pair of battered jeans-worn at the knees and feet, yet still the most comfortable pair he owned. As for his most trusty lab-coat, yes, ah, such a nice lab-coat it was. So soft. And as Cecil had described it at one point, "neat". He pulled it on, fixing the collar and the sleeves so they fit most comfortably over his long-sleeved t-shirt, and then decided it was going to be warm again today, and rolled up each sleeve until his elbow, marking sure he looked nice and sciency. He could only guess, though.

As was expected, Cecil took a while in the bathroom. He always did. He was aware of it, although Carlos-ah, perfectly imperfect Carlos- never actually pointed it out. He sometimes didn't even go in the bathroom some mornings, or he would just get dressed first and wait on Cecil to finish, and then go in. Oh how he loved Carlos. From his perfect jaw-line, so strong and defined, to his gorgeous, dark skin. How imperfect it was, but oh how perfect he thought wonderful Carlos to be. How wonderful and perfect and how oh-

Cecil had to stop himself. His tattoos had begun to glow more than ever, even in the dimmed light of the bathroom, and his pale cheeks had begun to flush pink. In fact his whole face had. Cecil's usually quite placid and calm expression had been replaced by a subconscious smile reaching to his rosy cheeks. His face was so red oh dear. He turned on the tap again and literally stuck his face in the cold water gushing out from the faucet. After a moment he pulled his head back. His face and a few strands of hair had been drenched in the adventure to Niagara falls. Rubbing his eyes and drying his face with a towel, he again looked in the mirror. Feeling just a little bit refreshed after that.

As he walked out of the bathroom, Carlos noticed that Cecil's face was particularly red. Although it could've been passed off as washing his face, he still wondered. And considering that whenever Cecil did look up at Carlos, his face spread into that dorky smile again and Cecil came over and hugged onto him once again. Not as hard as before, but more just revelling in the fact that he could hug him. Cecil hugged him a lot, actually. And Carlos was pretty sure he had picked up how the tattoos would act around different stimuli.

Like, whenever Cecil would be talking on the air, his tattoos would just kind of float across his skin, not really shining or shimmering that much. And as for when he was especially bored, Carlos only guessed that the tattoos just looked like tattoos, as there was never a moment that Cecil had been bored around him.

And as for when he got upset, his tattoos would turn a shade darker and in some places change their shape and colour slightly. As for when Cecil was happy and/or excited, those marvellous tattoos of his would glow and shimmer, and would dance about his body almost joyously. Cecil himself was something to marvel at, and he made one too many notes about his boyfriend in his science books.

Carlos still stood there, in front of the window, trying in vain to tame his hair. He couldn't brush it, it would just go all frizzy and if he tried patting it down, well, then it just went all fluffy again with curls. Goodness, he really needed a hair cut. Maybe telly the barber would be a good person to do it? After all, in the heat, it did get hard to keep himself cool with this mop of hair on his head. Finally he gave up. Strapped on his watch and then got some of his science things from a cupboard on the wall. Although time doesn't actually work in NightVale. Clocks weren't real either, but it gave Carlos a small comfort of the outside world when he wore it, remembering something of the outside world that he held dear. He remembered getting given it as a present one year for a birthday, least to say parties in NightVale where rather strange, and not wished to be had again after the last one.

He still rented out a storage facility he was using as a lab beside Big Rico's Pizza. And he intended to go their early to get some tests and science things done. Many science things where to happen that day. Many.

And yet, as he turned to Cecil, he realised something.

He realised Cecil was still in his boxers, standing beside the window and looking out over NightVale. His stripped boxers peering out from underneath and over-sized t-shirt. Carlos believed it was his t-shirt. Although he didn't mind, he liked how Cecil smelled, because Cecil smelt calm, and of a faint and distant memory, or tea and coffee and sunsets and cinnamon. And Carlos did love that smell. Although Cecil loved that t-shirt. It was grey, totally not Cecil's colour, and it had an orange collar and was far too big for Cecil. In reality it was far too big for Carlos. It was so big that both of them could fit inside it together easily. And for some reason Cecil always wore it.

Carlos stood there daydreaming, and then he actually listened to what Cecil was saying. His voice was slightly deeper and croaky, and he was talking somewhat fast and angrily about something.

The first word that Carlos could register in the mutterings of his boyfriend was 'mountains'.

Dammit.

Cecil really despised mountains. Literally, he had brought it up once that there were lots and lots of mountains around the world, and Cecil had become agitated and insisted that mountains weren't real. In any circumstance. And Carlos had left it at that.

At last, Cecil finally put some trousers on. And put on his regular attire of a black button up waist coat, with a white long sleeved t-shirt and the sleeves rolled up. Today, Cecil was going for a sort of messy hairstyle. Well. That he thought looked messy. He didn't have any mirrors. Dear imperfect heavens he would rather get sent to the void than have mirrors in his home, or anywhere for that matter. And as he fixed his tie- wait a second, looking down upon himself he wondered,-did he wear ties? Had he ever worn one? Come to think of it, he never remembered buying one. But maybe it was the secret police then, giving him ties? Oh well. Most things are the secret police. They always have been.

Downstairs, the dark smell of coffee drifted from room to room. And although there weren't actually that many rooms, the house was always filled with the smell. Whether it be fragrant and lightly spread, or lay in the air like a thick sheet, it always did smell of coffee. And not to mention that this was a rather new house. Nice, unlike the condo Carlos had wanted to buy before. Condos are not to be trusted. He risked losing his perfectly imperfection to that damn black cube of enormous side and slick edges. Although he didn't. But thinking about that incident more as he poured some coffee into a cup, his hatred and despise of mountains also flourished again. But thinking about Carlos-ah, gorgeous and sweet Carlos- was enough to calm his mind. Taking a sip of the dark liquid, he saw a fleeting image in the corner of his eye, but paid none too much attention to it. And he turned away and walked towards his seat.

Carlos was upstairs in the bathroom, as Cecil made himself some coffee. I have not even put any dialogue in this bit. But you see, they did chat to one another. Both and either talking to one another and giggling happily. It was still such a bright and glorious day. The sky was, to a certain extent, a faint yellow colour, much as NightVale sky did look during the daytime. Carlos had reckoned it was something to do with chemical fluctuations or maybe NightVale was on the platform of a criss-crossing dimension or something science like. Carlos was about science. For he was and always will be, CARLOS THE SCIENTIST, GREAT CARLOS, PERFECTLY IMPERFE-ahem, where was I?

Oh and when Carlos had finished his business in the bathroom, he walked down the stairs to meet Cecil before heading to the lab to do science things. Carlos quite regularly did science things. He was a scientist. I thought you would have known that.

And Cecil went to the NightVale Community Radio Station, as he was Cecil Gershwin Palmer, voice of NightVale. And each of them carried on with their day. Each of them had separate encounters to tell over food being eaten, different memories and feelings and words and thoughts. But as the day waned on, each of them could not have predicted the telling of two new-comers in their little town. Two very odd strangers, indeed.

Cecil was in his little studio room, reading out from the pages he had in front of him into the mic. He had the habit of crinkling the corner of the pages as he read, the pages a sort of off-white and feeling rather scratchy against his skin as he subconsciously trailed his fingers over the small black lettering. Occasionally he also moved his hands about the air, waving them through the words he spoke in that deep tone, although not that deep mind you. He would speak for awhile, talking about the community calendar in NightVale, the Traffic, albeit it was always somewhat disturbing, and talking about most things that where written down for him to approach the subject on. And just as he concluded another segment-

"And now, I take you, to the Weather".

A song began to play, a random song, as each weather song was. And Cecil took off his headphones for the moment and stretched his arms above his head. Goodness, he really sat in that chair quite a lot. He made a small note in the back of his mind to remind himself to take a walk or something, but that part of his mind would not keep a note. That part of his mind would not keep anything. It was useless.

And then the radio show started back up again, until finally-

"And tonight listeners I-...ohhh?". Cecil's voice growled an octave lower and his hands rested under his chin, intrigued by the new discovery. His smile was small, but more of a smirk.

"Listeners, it seems we have some new arrivals, here in NightVale. Maybe more scientists, come to search and wonder about our mysterious little town? Or maybe some people from where dearest perfectly imperfect Carlos is from? Either way, NightVale, can I just say that we should greet them each with open arms. For there is one man with bright green eyes, and, pardon my words, an incredibly good looking face, and the other so very tall and so messy hair. Listeners, lets make them feel comfortable, them, and may I say their pretty nice car. Neat".

He could see the two men, of course. In that dainty car. A 1994 Chevy Impala he believed. And he could see very clearly the man with that strong jaw-line and the one with messy hair. He could see them, and as he watched them draw nearer and nearer, he knew already that they would most certainly be arriving here in NightVale soon. Now whether Cecil would get to meet them, he had yet to find out. But just as he was about the end the broadcast, he noticed that the two of them where not looking at the road-

"Listeners, our friends will be here soon.", he assured NightVale. "Oh dear, watch out".

Their car had jostled off the road and into the sandy wasteland of the desert. They managed to stop the car, at least, although running over a few animals in the process. I mean, they where dead anyway, but they might want to get their car cleaned a bit. No biggy, just a bit...disgusting.

He already knew what was going to happen to them. They weren't being harmed or anything, simply being brought to NightVale, the correct way. And Cecil was never even meant to see it. He wondered whether that had happened to Carlos? Although, he supposed, the first time it had happened, he had followed the rules. If you see anything, don't say anything, and drink to forget. But maybe, he wouldn't forget. He made that note again in the back of his mind, telling him to remember how people from outside arrived in NightVale. That useless piece of his brain again.

And so he ended the broadcast.


	3. Lemon Cake

So, third chapter, if there are any spelling mistakes or anything, I dont mind if you notify me. And you can leave a review or anything. Or say hi. This chapter is kind of split into two, and then conjoins, so you dont get confused reading it. First it's sam and dean, then nightvale view, then both tied into one again. _This is also a pretty long chapter, so, ye. __**._.**__ enjoy as you will, dear reader._

**Chapter 3: LEMON CAKE AW YISS** ( I am so creative with these chapter names aren't I?)

**Supernatural view:Aka moose and starfish**

With a jerk, and a blink, one of them was already poised in a crouching position, ready to attack if needed, although no threat was detected after a small scan of the area, with eyes blinking back against the glare of the intense sun. Although the other lay face down on the dusty and sandy ground, mildly groaning into the dirt and being in starfish mode. The other, taller one, attempted to shake the other, the smaller one, awake, yet the starfish was not going to get up any time soon. Sleep deprivation, the taller one guessed.

Sam sat there, feeling rather gloomy and having already peeled off his jacket and tied it around his waist, revealing his blue and red plaid t-shirt. Was he wearing the same clothes? He could not remember nor had he the mind to try remembering. And finally the damn starfish awoke,much doing the same as Sam had done at first, and then looking down upon Sam, sitting in the dirt.

His face was scrunched up, eyes almost closed and didn't feel particularly well. Looking up and squinting at his brother, he noticed his brothers face contorting into a 'why the hell didn't you wake me up Sammy', and 'where the hell are we' face. If that was seriously possible, Dean pulled it off. And he ended up just doing a slow 360 spin on the spot and looking down at him again. His pout ever increasing until finally Dean held up his hands and just simply shook his head, eyes widening and jaw clenched.

"What the hell, Sam?". Dean's voice was rather deep and usually did not fit his "male model" face, although that voice is what made Dean all the more enticing to foes.

"I...I don't know where we are either, Dean." Sam was rather tired as well, only noticing now, although he had slept most of the ride here...where ever 'here' was. Weird. And he hadn't been able to wake Dean, so he just lay in the dirt and sun for a while, oddly finding himself smiling slightly. It was as if imaginary pieces of thread had tried pulling the sides of his lips into a sort of smile, although he bet he looked unnerving. And he hadn't felt happy in the slightest, nothing around and nothing above, only such a glaring bright sun that made his skin itch and clothes stick to him like tape. Although the smile was soon contained and his cheeks finally felt as though they were no longer being pinched.

Quite suddenly, startled out of his day-dream, was a disgruntled deep voice, sounding worried and much like bat-man-

"WHERE IS MY BABY?".

Deans face was now contorted into a startled look, his eyebrows raised and his lips pouting, eyes slightly bulging and his body tense. He swivelled round, eye's darting place to place, looking.

"Seriously, Dean?". Although he brought the topic no further, knowing full well that Dean would not go anywhere without his car. He loved that car a little bit too much. Hell, he wouldn't even let Cas teleport him places, and that was CAS.

And, as if they were in a play, they each got up, although one was already standing, and began to walk towards the facing sun. One was rather angry at the fact that his baby was no where to be found, and that he had no idea where his dear angel was, and the other was just too busy daydreaming and over thinking that they had no reason to do anything but worry. Although didn't show it.

Each no idea where on earth they were going, but feeling and remembering ever so vaguely that they were each forgetting a memory, as close as they each could grasp it, neither said anything. And under the intense heat of the sun, somehow, they managed to stumble to the edge of the sandy desert. And on the other side of the sand, was stone. Stone built into pathways and sand flattened into streets. Houses and metal and darkness. Only did they take in their surrounding now, as they had been walking, the sky had begun to dim, Sam's smile had deepened and no longer played on his lips. But instead, it was as if a brighter light danced behind his eyes and through his body, oh so bright and so blinding, yet no pain. Bewildering, yet Sam just believed it was some weird heat stroke or something. Or maybe, it was...Unnatural.

Dean began to feel a weight lift off him, that feeling of stone in his stomach began to dissipate. And as they walked, neither had even noticed that they were bathed in a deep shade of purple. As the sky was purple and neither could tell whether it was day, or night. Hours were minutes and minutes were days, such as years could be a second. Neither thought they would end up anywhere near anyone, just walked silently through the desert. And as they followed the stone pathway, leading forward and forward evermore, the town became not an image in the distance, but a reality in the making. They each came to a halt.

Both turned to each other at the same time, with eyebrows raised and minds wondering.

"So, do you want to...go check it out?". Sam's voice was rather scratchy, although still kind of higher pitched.

Dean stepped closer to Sam, each of their bodies illuminated by the light of something, and Dean's face was set in stone once again.

"Sam, we will go and check out this hell hole, and if we can get some help for our asses out here, then that's a plus. But I swear to Chuck if this place is freaky, we are not staying."

And so each nodded, each freaked out over their wits, each unable to even comprehend most of what was happening, and why so many memories felt unresolved or random times clicking into mind at the wrong moment. Neither understood. And yet they walked on.

The town, it seemed, was bathed in purple light, from the never-ending horizon of shapes so black, they appeared to be cut from the very sky's itself, and they loomed around the border of the sky, skimming and ducking under the light. Some of the town was illuminated by faint, but very much orangey lamp-posts. And although before the streets had been nothing but dirt trails and stone pathways, as they together ventured further and further, the streets became tarmac, much like it had been on that never-ending road of darkness, with an endless supply of yellow rectangles painted onto the ground.

The two walked on, minding their own business, not a soul to be seen in and around the shops and doors that encased each from both sides. And, quite suddenly, came the voice-

"Ah, Dear NightVale, it seems that our newcomers have not had a proper greeting, yet". With each word came a pull at the end, tugging the letters and his voice sounding deep, it was that voice. That man from the radio and the one that each had heard inside their own minds.

And, as the two stood, after hearing the voice, and looking at each other, came a sort of rumbling. Or, more like footsteps. Not too loud, although within the empty streets, the feet whom which they belonged to still clicked and clacked, down the street.

And as the click clacking neared, both men noticed, that is was not in fact in front of them, but rather the source of the noise was placed behind them, upon a little slope they had walked down, just a few feet away. The two men swivelled quickly, baring theirs arms, although possessing no weapons.

And a figure came into view.

**Nightvale view: AKA science man mcgee and creepy, giddy school girl to drop dead serious two second flat boyfriend. Aka carlos and cecil**

"And, as always, Listeners, Goodnight, Nightvale, Goodnight". And with the flip of a switch, off went the air and off went the velvet voice with it. He had thoroughly enjoyed the weather section today, although could've done without ominous yet deadly secret agents coming into his recording booth, but he didn't want to dwell too much on it. After all, they were quite menacing.

Cecil stretched his arms above his head, cracking his neck from side to side, and doing a weird motion with his arms that sent every little glowing purple light in the room off, flipped every switch off, and as he exited the NightVale Community Radio Station, jacket in hand, the red ON AIR light dimmed, and then stopped glowing entirely.

He wondered what Carlos had been doing all day. Ah, perfectly imperfect Carlos~ Apparently he was just going to do more science things. As beautiful, perfectly imperfect Carlos always did. Having said numerous times that NightVale was so much more than just a normal town.

Opening the doors to the NightVale Community Radio Station with the bloodstone made door, and Cecil walked on. He hadn't taken the car today, as it had been so nice and bright. Like every other day, but some days you just want to be lazy and sit in your car, hoping, wondering, praying that you will somehow arrive at your destination. And Cecil didn't particularly feel like that today. He rounded a corner, although that sounds weird. And as he was walking, he came closer and closer to a figure...a man. A man in a tan jacket. Not too tan, no. Not orange. He didn't have a hat on. And he was carrying a black brief case. And as Cecil continued on, walking past the man...wait, who? He couldn't even remember seeing anyone, or that it was even a man at all...

Meh.

**Cute and dorky Scientist view:**

Science. Thinking, and more science. Basically, all that had been going through Carlos's head all day. That's mostly what went through his head. Although, not counting eating, or sleeping, or dreaming, or thinking about Cecil, and how cute he was, and how his tattoos moved about his skin, how they shimmered and changed and how gorgeous he wa-

Hm. Carlos shook his head, a wild array of thick curls coming down to meet his eyes, and being slightly illuminated by the bubbling green liquid in the vial clutched in his hand. He really needed to get it cut, although after what happened last time with Telly...maybe he could do it himself? Although he was no hairdresser, he was a Scientist. And maybe his hair would look okay. Well, after all, Cecil would say so. God, Cecil loved him, why was he concerning himself with this now, after he might have just found out why the sky in NightVale turns that weird purple colour sometimes. And, after hours and weeks of research, he had almost come up with a conclusion.

He had originally believed that the purple colour in NightVale's sky was caused by Potassium Chloride, although unable to find out why mass amounts of it were ever even in the sky, and why it would be burning, to create the colour. And just as he was going to write it down, write what he had found out, his phone buzzed. And buzzed. And finally he picked it up, silently cursing himself and about to answer rather angrily into the phone when he heard the voice-

"Carlos? You there? How was your science things today?" . Cecil. Cute and wonderful Cecil. And quickly as his anger had come, it dissipated, and he was left in awe of the silky voice and deep yet cute tones of his boyfriend. And he could already tell that through the phone, Cecil was smiling, much as his voice always pitched higher slightly when he did, although sometimes went a rather deep tone and his grin was more mischievous than normal.

"Oh, hello, Cecil. Science was good today. As many other days".

Cecil was quiet for a moment, then-

"Aren't you going to ask what the weather was like today, on the radio? Or the traffic?" His voice had gone kind of quiet and Carlos guessed he wasn't smiling anymore.

"I don't need to, Cecil. I have been listening to the broadcast. And the weather was quite good today, I have to say. And I do agree that my lab coat is snazzy". Carlos was practically almost giggling, as he never usually told Cecil that he had listened to him on air. And through the phone he could hear Cecil's wild giggling and squealing.

"Oh you are so cute. So so so so so cute! Hey, will you be home early tonight, then, if your science went good? I was thinking we could make something tonight. Not including wheat or wheat by-products, of course. So, what do you say?"

Cecil had been eating nothing but sweets quite lately. Carlos had literally no idea why. But Cecil really loved lemon cake, so Carlos had got into the habit of always getting him lemon cake whenever they went out on dates or decided to have a quiet night watching jaws on the television. Cecil loved jaws.

"You know, I probably will be done soon, Cecil. So yes. I will be home early. And what were you thinking of making?"

The line was quiet for a moment, and then came on the happy voice of Cecil again.

"Lemon cake".

That sent Carlos bursting out laughing, his five scientists all staring at him and his laughter ringing out throughout the small building.

"All right then, do you want me to pick anything up on the way home, Cecil?".

"Nope, pretty sure we have everything, so I'll see you then, Carlos the Scientist, I love you."

"See you then, my perfect boyfriend, and I love you too".

Carlos hung up his phone, and he just remembered that he had almost figured out the whole purple sky thing, and then as he was about to put it all into the computer, his phone buzzed, and he picked it up, Cecil again. Huh?

"CARLOS WE DON'T HAVE EGGS".

Ah

"Oh, um, okay then. I'll get them on my way. I love you".

"Love you too, Carlos the perfectly imperfect scientist".

And then Carlos began laughing again. Oh goodness, how he loved Cecil so much.

**Cecil and Carlos later on:**

At home, in their little house, the two of them had began cooking. Carlos had remembered to get eggs, and now in the making was a lemon cake. Which Cecil would probably eat within a day, considering Carlos wasn't too fond of cake. And yet, Cecil had also decided that they would make pizza.

And a flour battle was raging. (No wheat or wheat by-products used)

Carlos's hair was absolutely covered, his dark curls and eye lashes turned white by the flour. He had taken his lab coat off, and was just wearing a plain red t shirt and old jeans, with stripy socks. Small pockets of flour were illuminated in the air by the lights, and displaced as both went to grab more flour to pour on the other.

Cecil was not as covered in flour as Carlos, although that might be because he had the advantage of holding the full bag of flour close to his chest, and darting to throw more on Carlos as he went to grab more from a bowl.

Carlos turned to Cecil, both taking a strong stance against the other. Carlos spoke first.

"You may have won the fight...but I am a scientist and scientists are not good at fighting so you've apparently won the war as well".

And with that, Cecil began grinning and giggling, and hopped over to Carlos to plant a small kiss on his cheek and hugging onto him like a koala.

Cecil then spoke beside Carlos's ear.

"I am a radio host with purple tattoos, of course I won the war".

And both smiled and blushed red.

All in all, it took them nearly two hours to actually put the pizza's into the oven.

Around 10 minutes after putting the pizza's in, both of them retiring to the couch to watch Jaws, Cecil shot up and straight backed, Carlos getting up from his place of snuggling with Cecil.

"Um, Cecil? What's the matter?". Carlos sounded rather worried, scouring around to see what Cecil was so tense about.

And Cecil turned his head to Carlos, eyes completely wide and third eye appeared on his forehead.

In a deep voice, lips barely moving, he whispered, "They, have arrived".

Then leaped up and out the door, leaving Carlos kind of freaked out, but maybe Cecil was just tending to NightVale duties. Though he paused the film, slipped on his shoes, and left out the door. Cecil's shoes were also not sitting near the door, he must have moved so quick. Carlos hadn't even seen him put them on, and already he was trying to keep up with Cecil as he coursed the way through the streets, seemingly unaware that Carlos was following in close pursuit.

And as suddenly as Cecil had left their house, he stopped some ways away from him. Carlos stopped and bent double to catch his breath. Although Cecil appeared to be perfectly fine. He thought he heard him say something, but wasn't listening to closely to catch it. It didn't even sound like English.

Cecil had stopped on the very edge of the shadow of the building, so only his silhouette was actually visible.

Carlos was a little bit unnerved.

**Sam and Dean view:**

The two men stared at the silhouette of the man. Each tense and Dean swallowed.

"Who the hell are you?". Dean's voice was even deeper, puffing his chest out and eye brows scrunched. Although, before he could say anything else-

A purple, glowing eye appeared from the darkness. It shone brightly and did not illuminate the man's figure, though it did seem to make specks of dust sparkle. The pupil itself was a lilac colour, almost white, and the eye appeared right in the middle of the man's forehead. Then he walked forward.

The man's eyes also glowed entirely white, no pupil visible, and tattoos swirled over his arms and neck, conjoining and disappearing beneath clothing. And the man with the purple tattoos spoke, lips not even moving, and forehead eye still focused on the two of them.

"Hello, new comers. And Welcome, to NightVale".

That voice was like a velvet sound, the sound of which could travel up and down your spine and tingle every nerve within its surroundings. It was so loud, loud as it was, and yet so so quiet, barely even audible but demanding and well-natured all the same.

Dean's face was no longer stone set, rather he had adopted the look of complete and utter bewilderment, eyes wide and pout set strong, and as for Sam, well. He had simply stood there, awe struck and staring directly into the forehead eye of the man, as the man seemed to be staring back at Sam. Dean scanned Sam's face quite carefully, noticing even in the dim light that he looked a little strange. Not weird, just that the shadows coursed around his lips and cheek bones, turning his normally calm face into a twisted grin, though his eye were not grinning.

Dean turned his head back to the man with the purple tattoos, and now he had a poker face, eyes returned to normal and no third eye present on his forhead. He wavered a little in place, but other than that he didn't move.

Dean was still holding his protective stance, not lowering his arms and had regained his composture once again.

"Sam? Sam are you all right?". He called out to his brother without turning around, backing away from the man with the purple tattoos slowly, and finally he came to a stop beside his brother.

Sam's face was no longer contorted into that sinister and creepy grin, but instead he just looked normal, eye brows furrowed and seemingly never had even noticed the smile ever being present on his lips. And Sam's eyes lulled back into his head, whites visible and body crumpling seemingly under the weight of something unforeseen.

Dean was just able to stop Sam from smacking against the pavement, as his arms caught his lanky body and laid his unconscious form down gently. He hadn't even had enough time to call out to Sam, though it wouldn't do much good now.

Looking back to the man, who still stood in place, eyes turned back to normal. Wearing some weird clothing that shone in the darkness, not to mention random tattoos that were moving over his skin. And Dean heard the man say something else, although his mouth nor jaw did not move, barely audible against the deafening silence of the town-

"Lemon cake".

Dean's eyes scrunched up and his head tilted slightly, as if he was going to ask "what the hell", but all that came out was something of an unfinished sentence. He had to get Sam somewhere safe, although it would be a bit difficult moving him. Dean was seriously freaked out, and took hold of Sam's arms and tried to drag him away, although only getting a few feet before standing up straighter to catch his breath.

And suddenly, footsteps. Quiet, but there. And behind the man with the purple tattoos appeared another man. Wearing...a damn labcoat? The hell? Who wears a labcoat in the desert, or whatever this was? What type of freak town was this?

Asking all these questions, but not speaking. The man's face beside the other with the tattoos was not as visible, although Dean could already tell that he had tan skin, and was able to make out a cluster of dark curls upon his head.

Then the labcoat man spoke-

"Um, hello? Are you all right? Is your friend okay? Do you want us to help? Oh and don't mind Cecil, he's no threat or anything, so you don't have to be afraid. My name is Carlos..."

The man's voice was not what you would expect it to be. Dean had expected a rather low and some-what seductive voice to come out of the man's lips, but instead a sort of squeaky and nasally one did, although weirdly it added to the attraction of the man's face.

Dean finally found his voice and spoke up after casting a wary glance down at his brother, who was lying on the ground at Dean's feet, double chin and moose hair swept wildly across his face. He glanced back up to the two men.

"All right, listen here. We, me and him, will accept your offer of help, but I swear to god if either of you try anything, we know how to fight. Understood?". Whilst saying so, he had straightened his back and made hand gestures at them, voice lowering to sound more threatening.

"Oh um, okay. We should possibly bring your friend to the hospital, although I would rather you did not go there...it can be a little...weird. Well, hey, I'm a Scientist, and there should be a plausible explanation to why your friend had just collapsed like that. So, maybe you should bring him back to our place, considering the hospital closes every Tuesday at night to allow the hooded figures to revive themselves".

"Lemon cake". That man just kept saying it.

Dean just stared, hardly even able to comprehend much of what was going on, and finally just whispered "son of a bitch" in defeat. Picking up the moose and actually, for once, getting what he had went there for. Although maybe not the same kind of help.


	4. Chapter 4

Dear chuck I am so sorry I took this long ive been sick and school caught up with me and sorry. ._. i lost all motivation for a little while, so im sorry if this chapter is not that good or I have a headache this isn't good. also if i have described the layout of the house differently and you get confused don't worry, it is sort of meant to be like that. So try no to figure out the layout just yet. im still so sorry this took so long. spelling errors and such i am sorry for, replies and reviews are appreciated. have a good day in the infrared spectrum.

**Chapter 4: Eyes gaze and a heavy head**

Dean awaited his brother's return patiently, well not physical return, Sam was there just not there at the same time. He seemed to have slept all through the night and didn't look like he was going to be waking up any time soon- eyes sunken in more slightly than normal, hair wild and loose strands peppered across his face. He looked like a mess, a mess even more than what he originally did look like. Like a massive moose who hadn't gotten a haircut.

Of course, he was distracting himself form the fact that his mind was working overtime, though a somewhat calm and "normal" expression caressed his male model face. Without really contemplating anything, he had begun to get more and more anxious, that never-ending spiral of ludicrous animations that stuck in his mind in every inch and form, weaving their way through and under and settling to distract him of any rational choice. Because of course-he could never let Sammy get hurt. God what would happen if dad-

Stopping himself, stop going back to memories of that past. Not wanting to delve into any more painful memories, his mind was instead drawn back to the lemon cake dude and lab coat man. Apparently called Cecil and Carlos as he had learned. Though they didn't appear too weird- after all, they had let him bring Sammy to their house and help him and Sam find out what was going on. Though they hadn't spoken much as the man named 'Cecil', soon as he walked through the door, went to make a cake. Just "lemon cake, lemon cake" he kept repeating over and over as Dean heaved Sam's huge body through the door, with the help of Carlos.

Come to think of it, they were quite weird-being the whole eye deal. Although he had already asked Cecil what that was about, puffing out his chest and deepening his voice to make sure that they weren't a pair of shape shifters or demons. Although Cecil had only answered him in a high pitched voice, rather scraggly and grinning in a way Dean did not want to see again. His voice pitched up and down slightly on the start of each word, seemingly ringing in his head and lodging itself in the back of his mind. He only said-

"Lemon Cake. Also….Carlos? Do we have any other food?".

Cecil spun away from him in Giselle like fashion and danced his way over to the kitchen, deciding to go on ahead to make something without Carlos's answer. He had stood there for a few seconds, face scrunched up and lips parted slightly, until Carlos just whispered-

"Um, don't worry about him. He's usually like that. Well not usually like that but he is a bit….unique? Perfect yes and wondrous all the same but he can appear slightly odd to some. Don't mind him. I mean I think he meant that the whole eye thing was something that he wasn't going to tell you? I don't even know what that's about. Oh, and heads up, he has moving tattoos too, so ya know. Well um, should we help your friend? I'm sure he possibly just fainted because of heat stroke or something or-"

Dean just held up his hand in a stop gesture, though not rudely. His sucked in his lips slightly and then he realised the immense pain in his arms. Totally forgetting to set Sam down anywhere and Carlos still holding his legs, though not much help considering he wasn't very strong. Without saying anything, they managed to open the door to a guest bedroom (probably) and set Sam's moose body down on the bed. Although it more went like 'throw his torso on first' *sam lands face down on the bed with legs still clutched by Carlos* 'okay good enough and just roll him over again'. Well, needless to say that Sam's glorious moose hair was strewn all over his face and on the pillow his head rested on.

And so here he was. That was about 20 minutes ago and Dean was trying hard not to fidget and worry too much, as Carlos had not been much help with that. He already knew he was a Scientist, from the millions of times Carlos had told him. Though he didn't really demand that much information from him, more just that he knew his name and was waiting for Dean to do so. Quite a nice guy- he thought aimlessly once more.

And so he continued to think through the night. Or day. Or whatever it was, all he knew was that the small breeze within the room and moonlight stature of buildings, different shades of purple warping over the town and some winged creature fluttering in the darkness, told him that this place was….unnatural.

Moose view Aka Sammy Winchester (he's still asleep btw….just wanted to clarify)

_Here I go fallin' down down down. _

Opening his eyes, he saw, he saw absolutely nothing. Nothing but everything in between. As many stars as there were none and as there was. Still- the weird tune played in his head and made his mind throb with everything pulsing note, as if you turn headphones up too loudly and the sensitivity goes a-wall. The song played, though he did not hear it, only within a head separated by mind and different places in an electromagnetic spectrum. Dulled as it was, easy enough to be heard.

Where was his mind going? It was as if nobody was there to place himself to. Though his mind was awake-knew that much. Unlike the rest of him. One little push more and his eyes actually opened- and dear god was it blinding.

Sam lay there, eyes completely open and staring straight at the light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Apparently that's what was blinding him-not some godly force or anything. So, managing to turn his head to the right, his eyes fell upon a familiar sight. Dean lying rather squashed in a chair, jeans, jacket and all still in place upon him. T-shirt scrunched up to his face and arms folded. His expression was always the same- brow down and pout extended- although usually when Cas was around he seemed to be more peaceful. Yes it was quite obvious to Sam from an early point that Dean was not completely straight. Basically, Sam reckoned, he was as straight as his bow shaped legs. Though Dean always persisted in being with women and everything. But the way he looked at Cas- it was impossible to say that something wasn't there, considering if you tried to look at your friend like that they may just get a bit freaked out.

Why the hell was he thinking of this now? Dear chuck he had gone off topic quite catastrophically. And so, picking himself up from the bed he was lying upon, sitting up to look around. One bright light bulb hung from the ceiling, the room had an odd feel to it- not unpleasant though. The wall behind Dean was covered in pictures of a man with bright white-blonde hair smiling beside another man, with dark skin and wearing possibly the same coat in every picture. Each one was framed and in perfect condition. Each one's glass cover shone, no finger prints or marks visible, none had the same type of frame either. One appeared to be mahogany, another some stained sort of wood, another metal.

And so he sat, and so he contemplated and let his dear brother sleep in peace for once. No need to wake him up for nothing. Decidedly, no longer sleepy, moved out the door. Most of the walls were white, except a soft lilac coloured one. Though that one seemed out of place. Door handle shone bright golden-still no finger prints, no smudges or anything. No squeak of the door.

The room led to a small corridor-walls painted the soft lilac colour again. Each one decorated with pictures of the two people again. And so he walked, slowly, slowly as heavy feet dragged and mind frayed.

Although of course Sam didn't know his mind was frayed, well, he didn't know this much. For fact, no, but a guess? Yes. He could guess. He can guess.

Ahem.

Sam continued walking- into a small little kitchen. Lights twinkling on the surfaces of polished wood. A plant sat snuggly on the table, and a small breeze drafted in from the darkness outside. Wait…..it was still night time? He must not have been asleep that long then. Or was he still dreaming?

And as he was walking into the small kitchen, somewhat dazed, not at all anxious or anything, he bumped into someone. And the sounds and ringing's came to his ears, noises of voices and words. The man he had bumped into was the one in the pictures on the walls-the one with white hair. Sam stood there, peering down at the man as he stood looking up at Sam.

Then the man spoke in a tone which can only be described as somewhat fabulous in every sense-

"HELLO. GOOD HEAVENS YOU'R AWAKE! THE SHERIFFS SECRET POLICE STATION WILL BE PLEASED! Partner of Dean".

And then he twirled away into another room, leaving him somewhat amused and worried. Literally, the man twirled and danced away from him, seemingly like a ghost and rather elegant. His eyebrows contorted slightly and his mouth hung open a bit in dazed awareness. Noises came to his ears once more, footsteps loud and thudding harshly against the wood based flooring over the house. Dean's disgruntled, and deep voice could be heard rattling throughout the hallway-

"SAMMY? SAM?" And as Dean came closer through the short hallway and came to the realisation that Sam was in fact standing right there, a sigh came from Dean's parted lips and he put his hands on his hips. Back straight and looking slightly angrier than what he had during sleep.

"Godammit Sam, I thought you were gone or worse…Hey, Sam? Sam?"

Of course, Sam did not respond straight away. After all, his mind was still swimming in a midst of otherworldly feelings and voices unaccustomed to his ears. As if he had been buried in sand for all his life, as if his mind had always been numbed into consciousness. And finally, his mind came through to his eyes and voice through voice box, raspy once again and quiet enough, although able to be heard.

"Yes? Dean?"

He could not manage any more than that, considering a now dull but thumping headache played against his temples and made his eyesight blur. Again, he could still hear Dean's deeper voice quite clearly through the ocean of sound waves.

"Uh, come on buddy. Let's sit you down and drink something. You're probably dehydrated or something. Yeah, that's all."

And so Dean manoeuvred Sam's moose body to small seat set beside a small counter of wood off to the right of the room. Well, there were many rooms. Wait….huh. Never mind.

Sam sat there. Still dazed. Unfamiliar music playing around his head and vision slightly blurred into incorrect realms of visibility. Greenish eyes flickering between spaces of able to see and darkness that didn't exist. Mind reeling and breathing becoming rather hitched with each moment, finally he just stood up. Staggered really, not able to move very well for his head felt like it was being smashed repeatedly against objects, a pain and glowing brightness behind his eyes. Looking around himself, Dean was no where to be seen. Though he could hear the faint sound of vocal chords coming from a room not far away.

The more he moved backwards, back through the small corridor, the more his head cleared and by god he could see. But the walls, oh god the walls were not where they had been, round they curved and over the boards of wrong places were the nails stuck. Tripping and fidgeting and hair strewn amongst sweat and pupils small enough to be pin pricked. Clambering out of a door and into the coolness of the purple shadows.

His mind cleared. His eyes able to see once more and still shaking, began running. Running without a care in reality, or was he even in reality? Either way, a smile began spreading over his features, reaching right from his lips to the corners of his eyes. Teething glinting slightly in the moonlight and purple gaze of eyes unseen. Away he ran, through the streets of twisted and stone, though he could hear voices calling out to him. Too many voices. Thousands and reaching inside his mind, pulling at his hair and shredding his clothes.

Then he burst through into the almighty brightness, the beautiful, smiling and golden world.


End file.
